Days of Their Lives
by dog and the sparrow
Summary: Jess/Rory. She comes back to Philadelphia to visit him, just a little fantasy that I had to indulge in. Have fun reading.
1. Oxymorons and Geese

It was against her better judgement that she found herself pounding down the dangerously hot footpath to the worn and weathered bookstore. It had been two years since she had last been here; two years, in fact, since she had first been here. She knew it was probably not a good idea now, and she didn't expect a warm welcome, but something in her couldn't resist the opportunity to see her former partner, confidante and friend. The eventful history shared by Rory and Jess had never succeeded in keeping them apart before, and she hoped that luck would be on her side. Perhaps today, for the first time in years, they would be on the same page. Her heart pounded a sporadic tempo in her chest, as light as though it might float away, yet at the same time heavy and filled with omniscient dread. Huh, she seemed to have become a real life oxymoron.

As she neared the old bookstore, the surrounding edifices seemed to tower over it. They loomed at least two stories over the rustic little structure, even including the upstairs loft in which Jess and the other owners resided. Despite only having been there once, the building seemed achingly familiar. In the window, copies of Jess's latest work were piled high, advertised on sale at twelve dollars eighty-three. Knowing Jess, it would be brilliant and worth much more than the asking price. The new book momentarily distracted her from the encroaching panic she had experienced mere seconds ago at the thought of actually seeing Jess Mariano. The distraction gave her a chance to remember him as the friend, the funny, sweet and exceptionally quick-witted guy whom she had missed desperately. It gave her enough bravery to step through the peeling green doors into the colourfully decorated room. Books lined the walls, and any empty space was occupied by windows that stretched from ceiling to floor, or the works of aspiring local artists. The lighting was dull in the main room, and a niggling feeling in Rory's gut said that perhaps it was because the struggling business couldn't afford any better. She brushed aside the thought, sure she was again over-analysing. Diminutive yet welcoming reading rooms and even an unmanned coffee station inhabited the warm, homey space. The tinkling bell that sounded when Rory walked through the door had attracted the attention of someone from behind a counter. He was a solidly built boy, with peroxide blonde hair gelled up into messy spikes, and tattoos marring the pale, otherwise unblemished skin that was stretched tightly over his finely-muscled arms. His face was clean and bright, and his eyes sparkled warmly with recognition when Rory stepped into the light of the store. Rory's reaction was somewhat more callous.

"Oh! Oh, my god! Are you...what happened to uh...this is...different?" She swallowed back more profane exclamations.

The boy's smile vanished at the greeting.

"Excuse me?"

On closer inspection and after taking a second to calm down from the immediate adrenaline rush that had arisen upon entering the store in which Jess Mariano made his living, Rory exhaled a gusty sigh of relief. This was not Jess. From a few metres away, the facial structure was similar, but now that Rory could see him she realised that there were hundreds of simple things that should've given him away. This boy's eyes were an alarmingly bright blue. His lips were much fuller, and he had a lankier form than Jess, who was of a more stocky build. But still the hairstyle, if not colour, was reminiscent of one Jess had sported years earlier, and something about the deep, intelligent gaze was just like that of Jess. Perhaps it was something that all these smart, book-reading Philadelphian boys had in common. The peroxide boy spoke with a gruff, somewhat sarcastic tone as he spoke her name. She realised he had been attempting to draw her attention, as she had attempted to gather her thoughts.

"Rory Gilmore?" She balked at his apparent recognition.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" She asked tentatively as his eyes raked over her frame.

He chuckled warmly. "No. But you know Jess. And I know Jess. There is a connection."

"Sure. Ok."

"Look, I'm sorry, I just recognised you from the photo."

"The what?"

"The photo. You know, the photo. And the book." He paused, obviously expecting some acknowledgement or signal of recognition, that Rory was unable to give. "He never told you about the Rory book? I guess I'm not surprised. He wasn't even going to publish it, but then I read some of his stuff and course I made him. It was kind of difficult to sell the idea to Mariano at first, but he caved eventually. I can't believe I'm finally meeting the famous Rory!" Shocked and appalled, Rory stepped back as this overzealous boy pulled a box out from under a counter.

"Here, take a copy." He exclaimed, sneering pleasantly. Oxymorons abound! She thought sarcastically. Wait. That wasn't funny. This stressing was really throwing her off her axis.

"Ok. That's, um...Is Jess here?" She fumed, disbelieving this was really happening and fleetingly forgetting her prior concern.

"He's probably upstairs. He worked a double shift last night, so you mightn't want to wake him."

Rory gave it a second of thought. She hadn't seen Jess for a long time, and didn't know if he was still mad at her. It might not be wise to storm into his private sanctum and disturb him from what little sleep he could wrangle. It couldn't be easy, living with two other guys in their mid-twenties, trying to run a successful business. Then again, he had apparently written a book about her and not even bothered to call. Rory crossed her arms across her torso and looked around impatiently. "Yeah, well..."

Her words became silence as her eyes caught sight of the picture featuring on the cover of the book she had just been handed. It was one Jess had taken of her, candid, as she had been momentarily distracted by a disturbance in the street. It was from 2003, when they had only recently started dating, and the relationship was not yet distant or tired. She wore simple jeans and a plain shirt, her hair loose and blowing in the breeze as she stared off to the side of the picture. From memory, she had been distracted by Kirk, as he chased a lonesome goose across the square.

_2003 - Jess grinned cheekily, holding the camera up to his crinkling eye. _

"_Smile." He demanded, laughing. The air was crisp and light, as was his tone. Autumn leaves crunched under Rory and Jess's feet and he grabbed her from behind, holding her tightly against him in an affectionate embrace, for just a second before spinning her around and planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek as she tried to pull away and protect her face from the unrelenting arrest of images within the sly contraption._

"_Hey, what's going on over there?" Jess asked, staring across the street. _

"_I'm not falling for that old trick. You'll have to be much cleverer to catch me, Dodger."_

_It hadn't been a trick, though. After a moment of consideration, Rory's gaze warily followed Jess's. As usual, the cause of his perplexed gaze was Kirk Gleason, as he ran at an awkward pace and angle, hindered by his posture; he was bent forward at the waist, his arms outstretched towards the almost equally uncomfortably shaped creature that as of yet eluded his capture. _

"_Why is Kirk chasing a goose through the square?" Rory asked, bemused. Her words attracted Jess's attention to the speaker. As she stared in fascination at the odd spectacle, he slowly raised the camera to his eye. Her hair blew in perfect wisps around her face, her body outlined by a subtle sunlight, peeking through the clouds in a daring appearance through the lightly coloured, but thick and fast encroaching storm. The click of the camera as it confirmed an image alerted Rory to what Jess had just done. _

"_Hey!"_

"_What?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and planted another kiss on her forehead. _

"_I asked you not to do that!"_

"_Would you ask Da Vinci not to paint the Mona Lisa?"_

"_But I'm not the Mona Lisa."_

"_You could be my Mona Lisa. You could be so much more."_

Sometimes Rory missed Kirk. Usually she didn't, though. Refocussing on the present, and more specifically her immediate proximity to Jess, her heart jumped a little, just a little, to think he had kept this photo, all those years. And in a smug, vain little corner of her mind, she was pleased to think he had dedicated some component of his work to her. Surely he couldn't hate her too much, then. And surely, she admitted to herself with a sigh, she could allow him some precious sleep. Focussing on the picture and the memory associated with it, she immersed herself in the comforting knowledge that at one point an impromptu appearance at Jess's home would have brought up no more inner turmoil than an commonplace visit to Luke's Diner. Again, Jess's habitation was above a store. It was, somehow, a small comfort to know that this tiny detail hadn't changed. Pausing for a second, she inwardly snorted at this notion. Yeah, if Rory ignored the function of the store, the business proprietors, the location, and the alterations to Jess himself, it was exactly the same as when he had been in Stars Hollow. She sighed in frustration at her own inability to stay calm or even rational. In fact, seeing Jess under these circumstances was nothing to get so worked up about. Jess himself had sprung a visit upon her, under much stranger circumstances. She easily recalled back when she was temporarily accommodated in her grandparent's house, where the tension was audible and the air hung thick with judgement.

_2006 – Before leading Jess up the stairs to her room on the second floor, Rory removed her shoes and signalled to Jess to be quiet. She started to ascend the stairs, one at a time, ever so cautiously. If her grandmother was to hear, she would come out to investigate and that would be the end of it. Rory could only imagine the trouble it would cause, and she definitely wasn't in the mood for a confrontation with Emily. Jess followed close behind, pausing and grabbing the back of her shirt when they reached the first landing. _

"_What are we doing?" He mouthed laughingly. _

_Rory listened for the fateful sound of Emily's encroaching footsteps, but heard nothing._

"_If she hears me she'll come out and see you."_

"_What, are you ashamed of me, Gilmore?" He teased, but with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes._

"_No. Of course not. But things have been pretty crazy lately." That didn't even cover it. Her expression was apologetic and her voice dripped with awkward discomfort and uncertainty as she nervously awaited the footfalls that would send her ducking for cover. _

"_Rory, if this is a bad time, I can come back some other day. Maybe. If you even want that. I don't mean we have to, but..." He closed his eyes and sighed, catching his anxious breath. His words were too uncharacteristically evocative of a desperate, cautious plea. _

_Rory stepped forward, touching his arm gently. _

"_Come on. We can talk properly when we get to my room. I'm..." She hesitated, before continuing. "I'm glad you're here."_

"Rory?" Abruptly snapping back to reality, a strained voice broke through her reverie. It seemed that its owner was attempting to mask a quantity of harsh emotion, but it broke through in that one syllable

As Jess spoke, very different words felt like they were suddenly pounding through his veins. _I love you. I love you. _

Shit, he was so damn pathetic. With a strenuous effort, he kept his face blank.

Rory stood still, blood rushing to her cheeks. What had made her think this would be a good idea? He was obviously mad. But maybe...a tightly reined smile pulled the corners of his mouth into what he hoped was a genial expression.

"Hi."


	2. For Reasons Unknown

CHAPTER TWO

_'And my lips, they don't kiss '- _

"Jess!" He hissed eagerly in Jess Mariano's ear.

_'They don't kiss the way they used to -'_

"Jess, get up! Someone's here to see you!"

_'And my eyes don't recognise you no more –'_

"Come on man, get up! You sure as hell will want to see this."

"Will, shut UP!" Jess roared into his pillow, viciously tearing his earphones out, and turning to glare at the boy.

"Woah, Jess. Chill. I just thought you'd want to know, you've got a visitor. I was goin' to let you sleep but I thought you'd want to check it out." _Jesus_ _Christ_, Jess thought. _What_ _is_ _it_ _on_ _about now_?

Groggily opening one eye, he scrutinised the short, blonde, tattooed counter-boy. Will was annoyingly perky. And why did he style his hair like that? It was too similar to a style Jess had once favoured. Jess, however, had never succumbed to the apparent allure of that deplorable peroxide colouring. Well, he had maybe considered it, like, once. But he'd never gone through with it. Apparently the bleach hurt like hell.

Apart from the hair, his distinguishing features included his diminutive height and keen attitude whenever given the opportunity to help with publishing and sales. Jess liked to think of him as the offspring of Lassie and an Oompa-Loompa.

However, despite all the mocking remarks Jess could make at Will's expense, the worst thing about Will was the way he sometimes reminded Jess of his past self. Most unpardonably, the way he conducted himself socially. He wore a mask too similar to the mask of hostility that as a teenager, Jess had worn like a badge of honour. Will's good-natured personality surfaced when around those he knew, but in the store, when working counter, his surly discomfort made it impossible for Jess not to realise how he himself must have seemed.

Hateful.

Angry.

Withdrawn.

And if anyone looked deep enough...anguished.

Will was a bright spark, a new recruit to the team; he lived at home with his conservative parents and tried to fit in with the slightly older boys, like Jess, who had experienced more of life; enough to be patient with Will, but not quite enough to be dull or condescending. He definitely had talent, but whether or not that was enough anymore was a question that had long irked Jess Mariano.

Reluctantly pushing himself into a sitting position on the low-built bed, Jess propped himself up with the aid of one arm, reaching for his cigarettes with the other.

"You might want to wait to see who's here before you do that, Jess."

Jess scowled frightfully at Will, hoping to scare him off. It didn't work; he was far too excited about something to be put down by Jess's favourite 'if-looks-could-kill' stare.

"I swear to God, Will, if I get down there and it's the UPS guy with another package from Amazon, I will stuff you in that box and send you right back to Mr Wonka."

Will scowled happily and bounded out of Jess's room. Well, the loft corner he had marked as his own with the aid of some carpet and a divider.

Curiosity hit as he wondered who would be visiting him. He doubted it really was the UPS guy. Eric knew that Will could sign for him on anything. It wasn't as if he had any friends in Philadelphia other than the guys from the store. Maybe it was Luke? He had called in before, albeit with the excuse of already being in the area. Jess couldn't think of anyone else who would visit, however, so with the hopes of seeing his uncle he sped up the process of getting out of bed and tugging on pants and a loose shirt.

He gripped the banister tightly, his knuckles whitening. His balance was unsteady at best when tired. Slowly, he creaked down the stairs. His eyes were focussed on where he placed his feet. One before the other. Now accommodate for the lowered elevation. Now step, step again. He reached the bottom of the staircase, and looked around, hoping for the familiar sight of plaid and a baseball cap. Instead, the only sight that greeted him was the empty bookstore. What the hell was Will playing at? He better not have been pulling Jess's leg, or else there'd be hell to pay. Just then, he caught sight of perfect, shiny, brown girl-hair. It hung in long waves over her shoulders, flowing down her back. God, that perfect hair. The hair he had fooled himself into believing was the same of that upon the head of everyone Philadelphian brunette. If he thought his grip on the banister had been foolishly tight before, it was nothing in comparison to this. His fist tightened, in either shock or disbelief. Hope. Fear. God, more than fear. Terror. He had to find out. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He went through the motions of saying her name. He tried once more, but emitted nothing but hoarse breath. _One_ _more_ _try_, he thought. _One more try before I go back upstairs and hide in bed. Maybe get some medication to stop hallucinations, there must be something for that. _

"Rory?" That hurt. His face reverted to a blank mask as she turned around. Wait, what face? He sure couldn't feel his face. He couldn't feel much at all. Only the overwhelming urge to scream something else completely. _I love you Rory Gilmore. _

But that would be bad. For all he knew she was still with that blonde dick. No, he wouldn't give himself away until he knew for certain what was going on.

Staring straight at her, he realised he was probably being rude. A beautiful, pink blush clouded her cheeks. _I love you Rory Gilmore. _

He tried to arrange a smile on his so tightly reigned features. If he lost control, he could say the wrong thing. At any second, he could ruin this.

"Hi."


	3. I love you

With that one word, she felt safer. Maybe he wasn't mad? Maybe, just possibly, he didn't hate her. She stared at him, drinking in every aspect of his glorious being. Black hair, ruffled by sleep. Stout build, loose jeans, grey shirt he had obviously just picked up off the floor. His face looked haggard, and thinner. He had clearly lost weight. And there were now very faint lines at the corners of his eyes that she was sure had not been there two years ago. He came a few steps closer, and as he neared she could easily see how tired he must be.

"Hey ." She waved awkwardly. He didn't say anything, merely traced the outline of her hair with his incomprehensible eyes.

"You were asleep?" She asked haltingly

"Yeah." He uttered nervously. What the hell did he have to be nervous about, Rory thought.

"I'm sorry." She really was. The tension she felt between them was beginning to make her regret this.

"Don't be." He said casually. He was forcing it, she could tell.

She paused, as did he. After these simple pleasantries, she couldn't think of what else to say. They had never been big on small talk, more focussed on the intricate minutiae of Hemingway, Tolstoy, and a plethora of unpronounceable Russian authors.

She shuffled nervously, scuffing the toe of one sneaker against another and crossing her arms protectively across her body.

He looked around, hoping Will wasn't listening in. "So do you want to sit?"

"Yeah. Sitting's good. I'll sit. I don't do much else nowadays. Always sitting. Or sometimes standing, I guess, if there aren't enough chairs. But when I'm travelling, I sit a lot. And when I'm writing." She babbled on nervously as he led her towards two comfortable-looking leather armchairs, spaced on either side of a coffee table.

"So you've been travelling?" His eyes connected with hers before he quickly averted his gaze. His heart thudded in his ribcage, fighting to get out. That hair, and those eyes. Bright blue, and innocent as anything. Those that had at first glance, pierced his bullshit tough guy exterior.

" Oh, well, I got a job - "

"On the campaign trail. Luke told me, yeah." She thought she was probably mistaken, but it almost sounded as if his voice swelled with something akin to pride.

"How's that going?" He asked inquisitively.

"It's good. Lots of work." She answered him nonchalantly. He appeared intent on maintaining a calm exterior, and two could play at that game. "How's the publishing biz?"

"It's good. Interesting, you know. We hired this kid, Will. He's a good guy, got a lot of potential. He's kind of our project."

"Oh yeah, I met him. He says some pretty interesting things."

Jess's eyebrows pulled together anxiously. "Like what?"

Rory smiled. "Something about a book. Not The Subsect, something new? He seemed to think it was about me. Pretty crazy. But he seemed nice."

"It wasn't about you." Jess jumped at the statement defensively, his focus set on the floor, following the pattern embroidered in the carpet.

"Okay." Rory's mouth twitched downwards in embarrassment, as she cast her eyes aside.

Jess hardly revelled in this uncomfortable pause. Eager to fill it, he rectified his statement. "It's...I don't know. It's hard to explain. I guess you could look at it like...you inspired me. You always have." His voice rang with unmistakable honesty.

She couldn't say anything. So it was true. He hadn't forgotten her. She wasn't sure how to respond, so settled with the most idiotic statement; the first thing that came to mind.

"Wow. No one's ever written a book about me. I feel like I should be wearing all black, smoking fancy cigarettes and talking about French art. I don't really fit the mould of a proper muse."

Jess smiled warmly. This was definitely the Rory he knew. Babbling, yet always with a knowledgeable remark on hand. He loved that about her.

Rory sat still, feeling stupid and attempting to analyse Jess's expression, to no avail. The conversation paused again, and this time she didn't concern herself with awkward idiosyncrasies. She stared straight into his face and he stared right back at her. She could feel the blush seeping into her cheeks once more, but refused to look away. She could be stubborn, and he knew it.

"Why are you here, Rory?" Well, he was good at getting straight to the point.

"I guess I just wanted to see you. It's been a while."

"Yeah it has." He said pointedly.

"Jess, I'm sorry. But that's over, it's all over. That whole part of my life." She paused hesitantly, before continuing. She was here now, and she may as well go all out. "And that includes Logan."

"Yeah, I heard about that. Luke's become a regular gossip." He smirked knowingly. "Why'd you say no, Rory?"

"I wasn't ready. I couldn't give up everything I'd been working for, just to fall into a comfortable home and settle for what Logan wanted. I couldn't have been happy like that. I used to be so scared of not knowing where my life was headed, but now it's just so exciting. And I like the travel, I like seeing places. I did love him, but in hindsight, I kind of feel like loving him, no matter how much, just couldn't make it right."

The passion in her voice made Jess's heart beat so hard in his chest that he almost felt as if he should be pulling himself back, to make sure he didn't fling himself at her. Instead, he leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. He remembered that passion. He hadn't heard her so excited about life for a while. It made him love her so much more achingly.

Rory watched his posture change, and noted the change in her own. They were both bent forward from the waist, elbows on knees, hands clasped tightly. She spun her thumbs in tight circles around each other, nervous tension filling her. But it wasn't bad anymore. She had lost the feeling of wanting to flee, and it had been replaced with a warm, safe, wholeness. This was Jess. She was with Jess, and it was just like it always had been.

He watched as her posture mirrored his own, their eyes locked. This was Rory, his Rory. But he couldn't lose focus just yet, not until he ascertained some simple details. He inhaled deeply, and the scent of her shampoo wafting towards him nearly sent him wild.

"Rory, why are you here?"

"I already told you, Jess."

"I know. You told me you wanted to see me. You're right, it has been a while. But why are you here, Rory?"

She pulled back, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away. She glanced back for just a second, but the sight of his eyes so intently stuck to hers kept her still. When she spoke, her voice was small and uncharacteristically slow. Just like when they were younger, and he made her feel so nervous, yet safe at the same time. So content with everything, yet with a thrill running through her blood.

"I don't know."

He smirked. "What is it, Rory? Say it. Whatever it is, just say it."

"I..." She trailed off. With her eyes so intently locked on his, she no longer knew what she wanted to say, or what he wanted her to say.

_I love you Jess Mariano. _Shut up! She commanded herself. She couldn't afford to slip up at this point.

"Rory? Come on. Why did you come? After everything that's happened, you still came here. You know why. Just say it." His voice was husky and strained as ever, but with extra pressure contained in his words and hidden meaning in every forceful utterance. To Rory, it sounded angry, dangerous. Every tone of every syllable said to her that her presence here was unwelcome.

He watched her think, his own voice now clamming up. He hoped he hadn't scared her off. Maybe he'd pushed too hard, taken it too far. Dammit, he didn't want to lose her. He couldn't do it, not again._ I love you Rory Gilmore. _

She looked down at her hands; they were now in her lap as she wrung them anxiously, her body pulled as far back into the seat as possible.

_"_I just had to see you, Jess. I wanted to see you. An old friend." She got up, and walked around her chair, standing behind it and clutching the back of it for support. "And I guess maybe it was a bad idea." She began to head for the door. In her chest, her heart felt wrung-out and dry. Like it had been grasped, twisted, and emptied like a sponge. It beat, a painful heave with each thud.

"Rory! Don't go." He was panic-stricken. No. She couldn't go. He knew in that second exactly what he had to do.

He walked quickly to her side, his gait sure. On the inside, he felt more nervous than he ever had before. In his whole life, nothing had been so dependant on a single moment. He grabbed her arm tightly, though not enough to hurt her. She turned around to face him.

She gasped quietly, a silent exhalation of breath. He was grabbing her arm and it felt on fire, like his hand had been heated in a furnace, burning her skin. He pulled her closer to him. She was hyperaware of the proximity of their bodies.

He stood so still, his complexion cadaverous, a death mask. His nerves left his face drained of blood, and he hoped he was taking the right chance.

"I love you, Rory." He attempted an assertive sentence; he attempted to sound calm and prepared. On the inside, his heart was racing with pure terror. His lips didn't close, they couldn't. His mouth remained a little ajar, as if he could recapture the words with one breath, if he would only choose to take it.

Those four words made all the difference. They weren't panicked and desperate like at her dorm room one evening, not silent and unspoken as when they were teenagers, but real, and solid, and she knew that he meant it. Nothing had ever felt safer or more horrifyingly unobtainable than this very moment.

"I love you. Jess."


End file.
